Fairytale
by Stokrot
Summary: Because I just had to write this happy ending. Beware of spoilers!


_**Fairytale**_

Once upon a time there lived a man who had a rare gift of making the stories he wrote come to life. The man used to be a warrior, bound to guard a prince, yet cursed to die in vain before having a chance to protect him. One day, however, the warrior cast aside his sword and grasped a pen instead, so as to turn the tide of a story that was heading into a tragedy. Still, it would have been impossible for him, if not for the help of a little duck that had been turned into a princess by her wish to help the prince. With their combined efforts they managed to write a happy ending for the prince and his chosen princess — and so the story that had controlled a small town for many years was finally over, and the man began writing his own tale.

Day by day, step by step, bit by bit he spun the story, wishing more than any time before for it to come true — for there was still one happy ending left to be written. Yet even though he tried his hardest, even though many things he wrote of indeed came to life and made people around him happy, he didn't get any closer to his most important goal. He still couldn't find a way to turn the duck that used to be a princess back into a human girl.

The man, however, was not one to give up easily. Every day he kept trying, every day he kept giving his best, while the duck looked at him with her gentle and sometimes worried eyes. At such times the former warrior smiled at her reassuringly, and his wish to bring her back burnt even more strongly in his chest. He had promised to stay by her side forever, and he had no intention of going back on his word, yet it pained him more and more to see her in this bird form, even though it was her true self. After all, she had always been so willing to help, she had sacrificed so much for the sake of the prince's happiness… She deserved more than spend the rest of her days as a mere duck, and therefore he was determined to give her a happy ending of her own.

In fact, the more thought the man gave to it, the more he realized that he missed the clumsy, kindhearted girl she used to be. When they had first met she had been afraid of him and he had not trusted her, both seeing one another as a possible threat to the prince. Yet in time they both had slowly come to understand and support each other in their trials and efforts. It had been her voice that saved him from losing himself, it had been his call that led her out of the darkness. Together they had been able to achieve almost everything, even win against fate — the knight and the princess united by a common goal of bringing the smile back to the prince's face.

Yet had it truly been his only goal? Back then the two of them had just accepted their true nature, never wishing for anything for themselves. There had been no chance for them to stop and try to name their feelings for each other, so focused they had been on helping the prince. Still… the man had been deeply touched by how much the girl had always cared for him, treating his wounds and asking for his well being, even when he had still treated her as a nuisance. And then, when their world had begun to crumble, and a disaster loomed at their doorstep, he had found himself ready to rush to her side and save her, no matter what dangers awaited outside. Could it, by any chance, be that…

The thought was so sudden that it made the man drop his pen in shock. Was that why he had felt something lacking when he had tried to write the prince's story before? Was it because the one he most cared for had not been the prince but the princess? Was it so easy for him to write about her because… he loved her?

The man blushed fiercely, burying his face in his hands. Yet, as hard as it was for him to believe it, deep in his heart he had already known it was true. He did love her — the feeling had been burning in him for a long time, calmly, quietly, steadily, he simply had not realized it until now. And it was no wonder, for there was nothing rapid, nothing dramatic in what he felt; nothing at all like love in the stories he knew. Still perhaps true love did not necessarily demand epic deeds and great sacrifices… maybe it was about everyday kindness and care, and simply being by each other's side?

At this moment, however, it only made the man's longing more painful, no matter how it was. Just what could he do to ease this heavy burden on his heart? What skill did he need only to see her again? There just had to be something, he thought, desperately clutching his pen once again.

And then it suddenly struck him: perhaps he had not been able to find the way before, because he had not known his true feelings for her? And if love had been the reason for the duck to become human in the past, then perhaps it would be able to turn her back at present?

The man looked at his duck companion with newfound determination. Would his love be enough? And would it work if it was unrequited? Many questions formed in his heart and gnawed at it — yet he desperately clung to this new hope. He was ready to take the risk, even if the happy ending for the princess did not mean happiness for him…

His pen almost touched the paper, yet once again he hesitated. Somehow, just voicing his feelings for her did not seem enough. He felt he should convey his feelings in a way she could respond to. But how?

The man closed his eyes in thought, and then he remembered: the pas de deux they had danced together at the bottom of a dark lake, its image so vivid as if he was watching a ballet performance in the school's dance hall. This was the answer he was looking for. After all, next to being the warrior and the princess, the storyteller and the duck, they were both dancers, able to show their innermost feelings by their dancing.

And so the man put down his pen and paper and rose from his place by a small pond. The scenery seemed perfect: water shimmering brightly in the midday sun, reeds rustling in a gentle wind, birds singing in the tops of the trees, yet he paid it almost no attention. He only had eyes for the little duck, swimming by the shore and gazing at him; the duck that used to be a girl and a princess. He bowed to her — a warrior, a storyteller, a dancer — and then he danced. He danced for her as he had never danced for anyone, putting all his skill and all his feelings in every step and gesture. There was love, longing and determination in every pose, every spin, every jump he made, all of them so intense that it almost hurt; yet he kept on dancing, until finally, after a long time, he was sure that he had shown her everything that was in his heart. And then there was only one pose he could finish his dance with — so he stopped in front of his beloved, his arms forming the gesture of love.

For a while, however, the duck only stared at the man intently, and sudden anxiety filled his heart. Had his feelings reached her? Were they enough? And what would her answer be, if there would be any at all?

Fortunately, he did not have to wait very long, for at this very moment the duck stepped out of the water and onto the shore, her eyes fixed on him all this time — and then she spread her little wings in the very same pose of love he had done before. The man's heart skipped a beat at this sight — so she did reciprocate his love! — yet his happiness was only momentary. For even though he had put all he felt in his dance, the one facing him now was still a duck. And it did not seem that anything was going to change about it.

The man let his arms fell helplessly back to his sides. Why? Where did he go wrong? Was he too full of himself? Too focused on his own feelings while he should be thinking of her in the first place? Was there nothing he could do for her after all, no matter how hard he tried?

He fell to his knees, while the duck came closer to him, padding softly on the grass; her eyes sad and compassionate. She quacked quietly. It sounded like a question.

'I'm sorry, Ahiru', the man whispered in reply, patting her feathers gently. 'It seems I'm unable to write a happy ending for-'

He stopped mid-sentence when the realization hit him with its full force: the story had to be written to come true! How come he failed to notice it? And if such was the case, then he was truly unable to do anything, for obviously, it was impossible to dance and to write at the same time. Especially since he felt in his heart that the only way for him to fully express his love was through dancing…

The man hung his head low in defeat, tears welling up in his eyes.

'I'm sorry', he repeated, holding the little bird close to him. He was already crying, tears flowing down his cheeks. 'I couldn't turn you back even though I love you so much…'

He closed his eyes, while the duck nestled closer to him: a small spot of warmth close to his chest. And then, slowly, the warmth spread, as if embracing him, and he clung to it, resting his head on a slender shoulder…

The man started rapidly at this sudden revelation, opening his eyes wide. And, if only for a moment, what, or rather who he saw in front of him, made him think that he had lost his mind.

For, all of a sudden, she simply was there: this sweet, red-haired girl with a bright smile; the one that had been a mere duck just moments ago. The girl he came to love more than anything.

'Fakir!' she exclaimed in a familiar tone, embracing him tightly, which only made the man blush furiously, for she was naked as a newborn baby. 'I'm so glad, Fakir!'

'Ahiru…' he rasped, shock, embarrassment and disbelief still fighting inside of him; soon, however, joy prevailed over all other emotions. 'Ahiru', he repeated, more firmly this time. 'But… how can this be…?'

'It seems your tale has chosen me as its tool', said a somewhat skeptical voice somewhere from above, a voice that the man also knew all too well. 'I may not have your talent, Fakir-kun, but apparently my skill has been enough to write down your feelings. Somehow, I was able to feel them, perhaps because I'm a Drosselmeyer's descendant as well. Still this will require further investiga-'

'Autor-san', the man whose name was Fakir interrupted, looking up at the one, whom he could call an unwilling friend. 'I… I do not know how to thank you…'

'Do not dwell on it, then', replied the other man brusquely, rearranging his glasses. 'After all, it is your happy ending, I was just testing my abilities. And now, if you excuse me, I'll take my leave. I'm accustomed to a little… more dressed… ladies.'

And, upon saying this, he simply turned and left, leaving the storyteller and the girl alone by the pond. The man, still fighting a blush, took off his jacket, and offered it to his beloved, before smiling shyly at her.

'So this is it, Ahiru', he said softly. 'Just like Autor-san said. Your… not, our happy ending.'

Much to his surprise, the girl shook his head, her next words, however, cleared all the doubts that might have arisen in him.

'It's not the end of the story', she stated with confidence, her blue eyes full of light. 'It's simply the beginning of a new chapter, isn't it, Fakir?'

And it was. Indeed it was, realized the man, once again closing his arms around her. After all, he also hoped that their story together was far from being over…

And so, once upon a time there lived a man who had a gift of making the stories he wrote come to life, and a girl who had been turned back into a human by the man's love. For a long time the man had been struggling to write a happy ending for the one he loved, yet what he had actually managed to write was a happy beginning for both of them. And he would never have wished for a better ever after.


End file.
